If my words did glow with the gold of sunshine
And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung
Would you hear my voice come through the music
Would you hold it near as it were your own?
It's a hand-me-down, the thoughts are broken
Perhaps they're better left unsung
I don't know, don't really care
Let there be songs to fill the air
(Chorus)
Ripple in still water
When there is no pebble tossed
Nor wind to blow
Reach out your hand if your cup be empty
If your cup is full may it be again
Let it be known there is a fountain
That was not made by the hands of men
There is a road, no simple highway
Between the dawn and the dark of night
And if you go no one may follow
That path is for your steps alone
(Chorus)
You who choose to lead must follow
But if you fall you fall alone
If you should stand then who's to guide you?
If I knew the way I would take you home

This song meant a lot to me when I was too young (but trying) to grow facial hair, smoking too much pot and contemplating teen suicide. Before the glory of punk rock, I was a Grateful Dead fanatic, but don't tell anyone... it might be detrimental to my image.

The fretting or dimpling of the surface, as of running water; little curling waves.

2.

A little wave or undulation; a sound such as is made by little waves; as, a ripple of laughter.

Ripple grass. Bot. See Ribwort. -- Ripple marks, a system of parallel ridges on sand, produced by wind, by the current of a steam, or by the agitation of wind waves; also Geol., a system of parallel ridges on the surface of a sandstone stratum.